


Gray Areas

by tennou



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky can be cute ok, Character Study, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 11:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1549049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tennou/pseuds/tennou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Healing is a process, and Bucky's glad to have some companionship throughout it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gray Areas

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a good pairing

Bucky knows Steve (Or rather, recognizes him through little shards of old memories that would dig into his skin whenever he least expected). He might not have liked him or even trusted him very much at the moment, but he knows him. And he likes familiarity. He craves it.

But he doesn't know Sam.

He’s seen him in passing a few times back when he’d still been under Hydra’s thumb, but he’d taken a backseat to Steve—to Captain America—the larger-than-life man who was always in his face.

Then he’d seen him again when Steve came looking for him. He’d come along, for some reason. Bucky had wondered if he used to know Sam once upon a time too, but had quickly scrapped the idea. He didn’t feel anything when he looked at Sam like he did Steve. He hadn’t felt anything at all. Not back then, anyway.

When he’d readily accepted Bucky into his home alongside Steve, he’d outright wondered if the man was naïve. Who else would just allow the Winter Soldier into his home, no questions asked?

“I trust Steve,” Sam had answered simply when Bucky asked.

The thought of putting that much faith in _anybody_ seemed alien and terrifying to Bucky. His appreciation of Sam’s generosity was dampened by the unsettled feeling it invoked.

He just didn’t know Sam.

Though, he found himself wanting to.

\---

Bucky doesn't know how to go about learning more about someone. Even when he’d been the Winter Soldier, he’d never had to _know_ about the person he had to…“take care of”. All he’d needed was a name and a location.

This was entirely new to him.

He settles for watching. It's a simple enough task; just passive observing as Sam went about his day. Sometimes he catches Sam’s eye by accident.

The first few times, he’d looked surprised, but he gradually began to flash him a smile or a grin whenever he caught him looking. That embarrassed Bucky for some reason and he always looked away whenever he did that. For the first couple of weeks, they hardly even spoke.

Until once, there was a time when Bucky had wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water, and he’d come across Sam who’d just gotten back from his morning run. He was alone, presumably because Steve had gone ahead into the shower already.

He hadn’t noticed Bucky’s presence yet (another thing that concerned Bucky: he was never alert enough for his liking) and Bucky watched silently as he lifted the edge of his shirt to wipe off the sweat from his face.

There was nothing special about his body. It was toned and muscled, probably not as much as his own or Steve’s. But Bucky’s eyes were drawn to the exposed skin anyway, and it wasn’t until Sam called his name that he looked up, meeting his gaze.

“Hey,” he greeted with a slight smile. “How’re ya doing?”

Bucky never knew how to answer that. Most of the time he just didn’t know, so he didn’t say anything.

But this time, for whatever reason, he did.

“I think…it’s getting…” He paused and frowned, unsure of how to continue. It was always a challenge to condense his feelings into just a few simple words. “It’s not any worse,” he said.

Sam nodded and leaned back against the counter. “That’s good. That’s progress too, Bucky.” He tilted his head. “It means you’re not fighting an uphill battle anymore.”

That was a nice thing to hear and Bucky appreciated it. He knew the right thing to say in would be “thank you” but the words were stuck in his throat.

Bucky had never spent this much time talking to him before. It made him uncomfortable. He still didn’t know Sam.

He turned to leave but found himself stopping in the doorway. “It doesn’t always feel that way,” he said softly.

\---

Bucky needs space. Steve doesn't always understand that.

It isn't an inherently negative trait, but for Bucky it's enough that he’d end up staying holed up in his room just to avoid him.

Sam always gives him space.

He doesn't always try to start up conversation and he doesn't always look at him like he needs something of Bucky that he doesn’t know how to give. He just lets him be.

And Bucky is grateful for that.

\---

“You’re not fighting an uphill battle anymore,” Sam had said. But Bucky honestly wasn’t so sure.

He wakes up soaked in sweat, his mouth agape in silent screams, his metal arm clenched too tightly around the bedspread for the fourth time that week. He closes his eyes, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.  He hadn’t even realized he’d been screaming so loudly until he hears a knock at his door.

“Bucky? Are you feeling alright?”

No, he really isn’t. But he’s trembling too much and crying too hard to be able to say so. He feels scared and angry and frustrated and confused, and he doesn’t know how to come down from that state of mind. He was usually able to bear with it until the feeling subsided but it felt so much _worse_ this time.

He didn’t hear the door open or even hear Steve or Sam approach but then strong arms were wrapped around him and a hand was stroking up his back, and a split second of panic arises within him at the intimate contact, but it dissipates and he leans into the touch, allows himself to be comforted because he really needs it.

“Bucky? Buck?” he hears Steve call his name. Somehow he knows that it’s his arms around him. “Are you with us?”

“It’s alright now, Bucky,” Sam’s voice cuts through his breakdown. “You’re alright. You’re safe. We’re here for you, Bucky. You’re safe. You’re okay.” And Sam is pretty much just saying the same thing over and over again, repeating the same thing in different ways, but it helps. His voice, Steve’s arms; they help.

Bucky wants to thank them but all he can do is clutch Steve’s shirt as the sobs wrack his body.

\---

Bucky’s considered just leaving Sam’s home, before. Then they wouldn’t have to put up with his mess of problems. Bucky’s always hated feeling like a burden.

But something stops him, and he’s not entirely sure what it is yet.

It tells him that staying with Sam and Steve is the right thing to do because that previous night was the best he’d felt since his night terrors had begun, and it’s the first time he’s gotten the feeling that maybe he’s capable of being saved.

\---

Bucky talks to Sam.

Maybe he’s gotten tired of not speaking for so long, or maybe there was just something about Sam that made him feel like it was okay to talk to him, but he finds himself sitting down next to him on the couch as he watches TV.

Sam glances over at him, his brows raised slightly, but he says nothing. Just smiles and returns his gaze to the TV. Giving him space. Letting him know it was okay if he didn’t want to say anything at all.

“You’re a good man,” Bucky tells him.

That gets Sam’s attention. “What?”

Bucky’s already regretting his decision to talk. He wishes he hadn’t begun with that statement. He wants to leave and hide in his room again. But he knows he has to do this.

“You’re…good,” he repeats. “Too good. I think you’re too trusting.” He pauses. “And you’re never as alert as you should be, especially around me.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Do you think I should be alert around you?”

Bucky looks down at his hands in his lap: one flesh and one metal.

“Yes.”

“Why is that?”

Bucky meets his gaze steadily. “Don’t you know why?”

Sam crosses his arms. “You think you’re a danger to me.”

Bucky nods.

“I think I can handle myself pretty well, thank you very much.” There’s a teasing tone to his voice. “Are you worried about me?”

“Yes.”

Sam seems thrown off by his admission. “You don’t have to be. But I’m kind of flattered.” He smiles and Bucky notices how soft Sam’s lips look. He forces his gaze away.

“You helped Rogers find me,” he says. “You took me into your home. You’re helping me now.” Bucky shook his head. “I’d never be able to do that.”

Sam nods once, almost to himself. Then he says, “I think I know what’s going on here.”

Bucky glances up at him, waiting.

“You’re seeing things as too black and white,” he says. “You’ve got it into your head that there are two types of people. The ‘good kind’,” he points to himself, “and the ‘bad kind’,” he points to Bucky. “I’m good because you think I’m selfless and kind and you’re bad because you’ve done things you regret, bad things that you won’t forgive yourself for.”

Bucky wonders how Sam was able to glean all of that from just five minutes alone with him. Then he thinks maybe he isn’t the only one who’s spent the past few weeks observing someone.

Sam leans back and his arm brushes Bucky’s, and Bucky almost wishes he still had the warmth of a real limb.

“You gotta understand that people aren’t just black and white, Bucky,” Sam says. “There are gray areas. Lots of them. I’m no saint,” he says with a small laugh, as if the very notion is ridiculous. “Steve—I’m not so sure about, actually. But me, definitely not.”

Bucky feels a smile at his lips at that.

“Which also means that you’re not all bad either, Bucky. You’ve got gray areas.” He grins. “I know. I’ve seen some of them. They’re not so bad.”

Bucky has the sudden urge to kiss Sam. Or hug him, or even hold his hand.

He blinks, surprised. Where did that feeling come from?

“Bucky? You know what I’m saying?”

Bucky stands from the couch, suddenly anxious to be alone. “Thanks,” he mutters quickly before leaving the room, leaving a very confused Sam Wilson alone on the couch.

\---

Bucky doesn’t know how to act around Sam in light of the new feelings stirring in his chest, so he avoids him for the next few days.

It’s not hard. He just eats in his room and keeps to himself like he did before.

He knows that Sam is probably confused but he just…can’t face him. Not until he knows what he’s feeling for sure.

\---

The next time Bucky sees Sam is during one of his night terrors.

Steve is out with Natasha doing whatever ex-SHIELD agents do and the only one there with him is Sam.

It’s Sam’s arms that are around him this time, and he’s whispering those same comforting words into his ear and Bucky clings to him like his life depends on it, burying his face in the crook of his neck until the tremors subside and he’s all cried out, until the terror bleeds away.

“You alright?” Sam asks softly.

Bucky nods even though he’s not. He doesn’t want to let go of Sam yet, so he doesn’t. Sam doesn’t say anything, just keeps holding him.

Bucky can feel the steady thrum of Sam’s heartbeat in his chest. Something about it is comforting.

He lifts his head a bit so that Sam’s face is right in front of him. It’s so close. And Bucky is so tired and lonely, and he likes Sam a lot more than he thought he did, and he wants to be with him, maybe forever.

So he leans forward and he kisses him.

\---

When Bucky wakes up the next morning he almost thinks kissing Sam might’ve been a dream, a very pleasant dream.

Then he sees Sam asleep next to his bed and realizes it actually happened.

He feels panic rising in his chest as Sam begins to stir. He quickly gets out of bed and into the bathroom before Sam is awake enough to question what he did the night before.

He was in a vulnerable state. That was it. That was why he kissed Sam.

Even as he’s thinking it he knows that’s not true. If he hadn’t kissed him last night, the urge to do so would’ve won over eventually. He grips the edge of the sink.

He feels a little terrified at how Sam will react. He again considers simply slipping out of the house and leaving this all behind. But he doesn’t want to run anymore.

So he freshens up and makes himself presentable before heading outside to where he knows Sam is waiting.

Sam looks up when he enters the room. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Sam pats the space next to him, giving him a small smile that somehow puts Bucky at ease. “Sit down, I’m not gonna bite.”

Bucky thinks that’s a strange choice of words, but he sits.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” He swallows. He knows they should, but he doesn’t even know where to begin. He glances at Sam from the corners of his eyes.

He thinks he might love him (if that’s even possible). He doesn’t remember what it’s like to be in love but he thinks that this is what it feels like. Or at least the beginning of it. The beginning of  _something_.

So he tells him.

“I like you.”

Sam’s eyes widen slightly. Bucky wonders if being direct was a mistake. He didn’t know how to handle feelings at all.

“You…what?”

Bucky finally meets Sam’s gaze and repeats himself, “I like you. A lot. I think…I think you’re nice. And Good. Even your gray areas. I like all of them.” He realizes his metal hand is clenched into a tight fist and he relaxes it.

Bucky can’t help but squirm during Sam’s silence. He’s not used to this.

These past few weeks have been more emotionally taxing on him than any other time of his life (that he can recall). It’s ripped him apart, and put him back together again.

He feels Sam’s hand against his face and flinches instinctively. Sam smiles at him and Bucky feels his insides twist a little bit.

“Guess I’m not as selfless as you thought, huh?” he asks wryly. Bucky isn’t sure what he means until he feels Sam’s lips against his own. He closes his eyes and kisses him back. And he likes the feeling.

\---

Bucky wakes up covered in sweat and panting, but it’s not from a nightmare.

He dreamed about… _Sam_. He feels his face warm at the thought. He shifts around in his bed and discovers, to his horror, that somewhere during his dream he’d gotten hard. He’s debating whether or not to take care of it or just sleep it off after a cold shower when he hears a knock at the door. He pulls the covers up around him in panic when Sam’s voice comes through the door.

“Hey, Buck? You alright?”

Bucky licks his dry lips and tries to say yes, he’s fine, but he stumbles over his words. Apparently he sounded bad enough that Sam figures he should come in to check on him.

“Bucky?” He closes the door behind him and comes to sit next to Bucky on the bed. Bucky swallows nervously, the careful concern on Sam’s face doing nothing to alleviate his little problem.

“It’s nothing,” he says, clutching the covers even tighter. “I didn’t have a bad dream tonight.”

Sam’s face brightens. “That’s great! You’re making real progress, Bucky, I hope you realize that.”

Bucky nods. “Thank you,” he mutters. He shifts his legs again, trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. “I’m pretty tired, actually…” he says, hoping Sam will get the hint and leave.

Sam smiles. “I got it, I’ll get out of your hair. Sleep tight,” he says, patting Bucky on the thigh. His hand lands a little too high though, and Bucky lets out a low grunt when Sam’s hand makes contact with his erection.

Sam blinks in surprise before understanding dawns in his eyes. “ _Oh_.” A smirk lifts his lips. “So when you said you didn’t have a _bad_ dream, what you actually meant was…”

Bucky frowns. “This isn’t funny,” he says.

“No, no, of course not,” Sam says, laughter in his voice. He leans forward, his tone becoming conspiratorial. “Want me to help you out?”

Bucky feels his cock twitch with interest at the thought. He looks away, breaking eye contact embarrassedly before nodding once. Sam’s hand is reaching beneath the covers and into his sweats almost immediately and Bucky inhales sharply.

“Just relax,” Sam murmurs into his ear before taking his earlobe between his teeth. His hand closes around Bucky’s cock and he can’t help rolling his hips into the feeling as Sam slowly pumps him.

“Does that feel good, Bucky?”

Bucky nods, raising one of his hands to grip the material of Sam’s shirt.

“Do you want me to keep going?”

Bucky swallows. “Y-yes.”

Sam moves forward and places his lips on Bucky’s neck, sucking red marks into the skin as he strokes up and down Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s breath hitches. He’s mindful of his metal fingers as they dig into the skin of Sam’s back through his T-shirt.

Sam’s movements are slicked by the precum beading at the tip of his cock and get faster. Bucky almost moans out loud but catches himself before he does, opting instead to suck his bottom lip between his teeth to prevent any other involuntary sounds from escaping his mouth.

Sam kisses up his neck and down his jaw until he’s on his lips, slipping his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky can feel himself moan into the kiss but can’t bring himself to care because Sam is quickly bringing him over the edge.

He lets out a whimper as he bucks his hips one last time before his orgasm shudders through him. Sam strokes him until Bucky’s finished, still holding Sam’s shirt in a death grip and breathing heavy as he comes down.

“Is that better?” Sam asks.

Bucky nods. “Th-thanks.”

Sam’s smile almost looks like a smirk as he leans in to press one last chaste kiss against his lips.

“Any time,” he whispers.

And Bucky likes the promise that his words carry.

"Maybe next time I can return the favor," Bucky whispers back with a tentative smile, and he knows there's a promise to those words too (albeit a slightly less noble one).

**Author's Note:**

> Comments or kudos if you liked it would be very appreciated [starfudge](http://starfudge.tumblr.com/)


End file.
